


The End of All Things (Lay Us Down, We're In Love)

by NoStrings_OnMe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, terminal illness AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoStrings_OnMe/pseuds/NoStrings_OnMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s a wonder you’ve got such a sunny disposition, kid,” Bucky said. “Your body’s got a different idea.”<br/>“Never was one much for the winter,” Steve murmured. “Summer always was my favorite.”</p><p>When Steve is diagnosed with a serious illness, it's all Bucky can do to keep them both alive. And with WWII on the horizon, it gets a little more difficult every day...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of All Things (Lay Us Down, We're In Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The End of All Things" by Panic! At the Disco. Which I highly recommend listening to, if you want to cry about frozen supersoldiers. My best friend Born_to_Explode basically came up with the whole idea for this story, so I am simply the humble pen that turned her greatness into reality. Thanks for the inspiration, kid.
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

It started out simple, routine. But then again, doesn’t everything?

Bucky leaned on his elbow out the window of their third floor apartment. He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, blowing the smoke lightly out into the wind.

Steve sat across the room, feet tucked underneath himself, sketching. The small room was quiet, save for the scratch of Steve’s charcoal and Bucky’s fingers drumming on the windowsill.

And then Steve coughed.

“You alright over there, pal?” Bucky asked, cigarette dangling from between his lips.

“Yeah, I’m – hack, hack¬ – fine,” Steve coughed out. Bucky frowned, stamping out his cigarette and crossing the room.

“You sure?” he pressed, handing Steve the glass of water that sat on the table. Steve drank greedily before answering.

“I promise,” Steve insisted hoarsely. “It’s September, y’know? Probably jus’ a cold. No need ta get all worked up and such.”

Bucky made a noncommittal noise and started rubbing small circles on Steve’s back. “You’ll let me know if it gets worse?” he stated more than asked.

Steve leaned up against Bucky and exhaled, which came out shakier than intended. “Sure thing, Buck,” he murmured, enjoying the feel of the other man’s large, warm hands.

“You’d better, punk,” Bucky reminded him, dropping a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “Now, how about we get ta makin’ dinner?”

__________

Things began to shift, to change, slowly but surely. That’s the way of the world, though, right?

“Bucky, please,” Steve begged, reaching out from under the blankets to hold his hand. “You’ve gotta get back to work. It’s been three days! I can get by on my own.”

Bucky lifted Steve’s small, slender hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it. “Steve, ya can’t even get outta bed,” he pointed out. “How can I leave ya alone?”

Steve looked at Bucky, pained. “You’ll lose your spot, down at the docks, if you don’t go,” he finally said.

Bucky shrugged. “And I’ll lose you forever if I do,” he countered. “Budge over,” he commanded, and Steve dutifully made room in the bed for Bucky.

They lay for a few moments in silence, Bucky straining his ears for the unsteady breathing of his partner. “Thank you,” Steve whispered, even though Bucky had thought he was asleep by now.

 

“Anytime, babydoll,” Bucky whispered back, cradling Steve loosely against his chest. The extra body heat seemed to help because Steve sighed in contentment, relaxing in the embrace.

“You’re fuckin’ freezing, Steve,” Bucky commented, pulling the few blankets up tighter around them. 

“S-sorry,” he laughed, before sticking his ice cold hand up the back of Bucky’s shirt.

He yelped in surprise. “It’s a wonder you’ve got such a sunny disposition, kid,” Bucky said. “Your body’s got a different idea.”

“Never was one much for the winter,” Steve murmured. “Summer always was my favorite.”

“There’s where ya got the attitude from,” Bucky said. “Ever since I met you,” he reminisced, “you could light up my whole day with just one smile. It was like standin’ next to the goddamn sun.”

He looked down and saw Steve blush, bringing a little color to his sallow complexion. “Didn’t matter none if I was sad, tired, angry,” Bucky shrugged. “You made me feel better. Felt so lucky ta have gotten a guy like you,” he said quietly.

Steve shifted in Bucky’s arms just enough to lean up and press a kiss underneath his jaw. He placed another one on his neck, and another where his collarbone peeked out of his shirt. “Love you, Barnes,” he answered, knowing just what Bucky was trying to say.

“I love you too,” Bucky responded, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “My summer breeze.”

__________

Things will go from bad to worse. As they inevitably will.

It had been a month, and Steve still hadn’t gotten any better. Bucky had to go back to work eventually, but he no longer worked any double shifts, rushing home at five o’clock to check on Steve.

There was nothing to report, really. His symptoms were the same. He’d never been sick like this before, and Bucky was starting to get real worried.

“We’ve gotta get you to a doctor, Steve,” he’d pleaded, holding a cold cloth to the other man’s forehead. “You can’t just stay here like this.”

“Can’t…afford it,” Steve had huffed out, twisting and turning in the bed. 

After Steve had gone to sleep that night, Bucky had emptied out all of his secret change reserves. He counted every penny, nickel, and dime – twice – until he was sure that he would have enough. 

The next morning, while Steve was still drowsy and pliable, Bucky had loaded him into a cab and off they went, downtown to the city hospital.

“What’re we doin’ here?” Steve asked while they were sitting in one of the doctor’s offices. “God, Bucky, how’re we payin’ for all this?”

Bucky leaned over the table and squeezed Steve’s hand. “Don’t worry about it, punk,” he said with a half-smile. “It’ll be okay.”

Steve and given him a full smile back, and squeezed his hand tighter. “Alright, jerk.”

The doctor met them a few minutes later, and asked what seemed like ten and a half million questions about Steve’s unusually extensive medical history. As the interview went on, the crease between the doctor’s eyebrows grew deeper and deeper. 

He finally closed his folders with a snap, and paged a nurse to run a battery of tests. Bucky hadn’t quite accounted for that, and became nervous about the cost. He kept his face composed though – for Steve’s sake.

A few nurses came in and wheeled Steve down the hall, instructing Bucky to wait in the lobby. It might be a while, they told him, so he might as well make himself comfortable.

As he was being taken away, Steve offered Bucky a small wave. Bucky returned, before heading off to the lobby to wait out the next few hours.

__________

It can only get better from here, right?

“Sir? Sir?” Bucky startled awake, staring wide-eyed at the nurse who was tapping his shoulder. “Are you James Barnes?” she asked.

“Yeah, I, um- yeah, I am,” he answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Follow me, please. Mr. Rogers’ test results are back.” She turned off down the hallway, and Bucky had to jog a little to keep up. 

“That’s good, right?” he asked, falling into step beside her. “He’s gonna be okay?”

The nurse gave him a stiff look. “I’ll let the doctor tell you everything there is to know,” she said curtly, and Bucky gave up, following her the rest of the way in silence.

The nurse stopped in front of an observation room and tugged the curtain aside. Steve was lying in a bed, seemingly swallowed up by all the tubes, wires, and blankets surrounding him.

Bucky rushed to his side. “Hey, Stevie,” he whispered, taking one of Steve’s hands in his, being mindful of the IV. “What’s the verdict? They gonna let you outta here any time soon?”

Steve looked sadly at Bucky, tightening his grip on his hand infinitesimally. “I don’t think so, Buck,” he coughed. “They…they found some stuff, when they did the scans.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. He could feel the blood drain from his face, and he tried to keep himself standing upright. “What kind of stuff?” he pressed, his voice as even as he could manage.

Steve averted his gaze, fiddling with the wires on the EKG leads. “Like…cancer kind of stuff,” he finally answered.

“Oh. That,” Bucky choked out. “But they can fix it, right? You’re gonna get better?” he insisted, voice rising hopefully at the end.

Steve struggled to sit more upright, and Bucky immediately reached over to adjust his pillows to help. “The doctor said that there is a treatment,” Steve began slowly. “Radiation, pills, that sort of thing.”

“That’s amazing, Steve! He can start it right away, yeah? You’ll be better by the new year,” Bucky smiled, and Steve felt an uncomfortable pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his disease.

“We can’t do it, Buck,” he admitted, covering their hands with his free one. “It’s too expensive.”

Bucky’s smile faltered for a moment, but he pulled it back into place quickly. “Don’t worry about it,” he said thinly. “I’ll pick up some double’s down at the docks. Hell, I could get a second job, probably.”

Steve just shook his head. “It wouldn’t make a difference,” he shrugged. “You wouldn’t be able to make enough. Not trying to support us both while you’re at it.” He looked up at his friend, tears glazing his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bucky,” he sobbed, before wiping furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Hey, baby, no, no, it’s gonna be alright,” Buck murmured, snatching a few tissues from the bedside table. “Don’t cry, Steve. We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “We’re gonna get through this.”

Steve only cried harder, clutching desperately at Bucky’s shirt.

__________

There’s nowhere to go but up.

After discussing their options with the hospital staff, Steve was sent home with a small orange bottle of low-level pain pills. “It’s the best we can do,” the doctor had said grimly, waving them out the door and into a taxi.

They made it back to their apartment in silence. While Steve laid on the couch, Bucky turned their bedroom into as close an approximation of a hospital as he could. He carried Steve, gently, into the bed, and shook out a few of the pain pills. 

“You don’t gotta do all this, Buck,” Steve had rasped, dry-swallowing the pills.

Bucky had smoothed Steve’s hair off of his forehead and kissed him gently. “But I wanna,” he maintained. Steve had huffed a sigh, but gradually allowed Bucky whatever pleasure the other man derived from taking care of him.

“The war’s coming,” Bucky said one evening. After he got home from his job at the docks, and before he went to his job as a bartender, he liked to spend a couple hours sitting at the foot of Steve’s bed, reading him the newspaper. It was hard for Steve to read it himself, as the print was small and his eyes were bad, but even horror stories about the German army sounded like music coming from Bucky’s deep, lilting voice.

“Hitler’s finally done it, now, has he?” Steve asked.

“Apparently,” Bucky guessed. “The president’s thinkin’ about opening up the enlistment,” he said casually, but Steve knew him too well.

“And you’re thinkin’ about joining,” he stated.

“It’s good money,” Bucky said quietly. “And I could send it back here, to you. Could spend it all on treatment, ‘cause I wouldn’t be around ta need any of it.”

“Please don’t,” Steve stopped him weakly. “Don’t go sacrificin’ yourself for me, like you always do. Let me fight my own fight.”

“I always come around and pick you up at the end, though, don’t I?” Bucky argued, referring to all those times he had come across Steve curled up in an alley, big thug standin’ over him, claiming that he’d “had the guy on the ropes.”

“There’s not gonna be anything to pick up this time!” Steve growled. “This is it, Bucky, don’t ya get it? I’m gonna die,” he jeered.

It shocked Bucky for a moment – they’d never talked about the outcome of Steve’s illness in such certain terms. “And when I’m gone,” Steve continued, “you can go on livin’ the life you always wanted. Don’t gotta bother working eighteen hour days to support some skinny little runt back home, who can’t even hold himself down a job.”

“Steve-” Bucky started, but Steve barreled on.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t love that freedom,” he spat. “I’m holdin’ ya back and you know it. Just,” he sighed, and his voice broke on the next part, “let me go, okay? End of the line, and all that. I may be your summer breeze, but the summer breeze never lasts, Buck. You gotta cherish it while it’s here, and then let go.”

Bucky sat frozen in place for a moment, just staring at Steve. Then, he tossed the newspaper on the floor and crawled up to where the other man was sitting. Steve tried to push him away, but Bucky got his arms around him, holding him tightly to his chest.

“Steve, you listen to me,” he said, evenly but in a tone that broke no argument. “You are, without a doubt, the most important thing in my life. I love you more than my limited vocabulary could ever express. And not a single day goes by that I don’t look at you and think about how much better you are than me, how much I don’t deserve you.” 

Steve had relaxed into his arms at this point, and was sniffling quietly. Bucky placed one hand on the back of Steve’s neck, thumb rubbing against his jawline.  
“If you really want me to go,” Bucky said shakily, “then I’ll leave. If that’s what you really want. But I don’t think that’s it,” he insisted. “It’s hard to believe sometimes, but I know you love me too. And if that’s true, then please, Stevie, I’m beggin’ ya, let me help you,” Bucky pleaded. “This doesn’t have to be the end of the line. I’m not going anywhere, not without you.”

Steve pressed his face into Bucky’s chest, dampening his thin shirt with more tears. “I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m sorry,” he repeated, while Bucky held him close.

“Shh, darlin’, don’t apologize,” he murmured. “We can do this, together. Just let me help you.”

Steve nodded, shifting so that his head was resting against Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, yeah?” Bucky joked, easing himself out of the bed. He threw his tear-stained shirt into the hamper and pulled his work one off of a hanger in the closet. 

“How could I do that?” Steve asked, voice still a bit stuffy. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes affectionately. “Punk,” he grinned, leaning in for a quick kiss before he had to leave. 

“Jerk,” Steve returned, pulling Bucky in close by his collar.

_________

If you love something, set it free; if it doesn’t come back, it was never meant to be…

“So this is it?” Steve asked, holding the form detailing Bucky’s orders lightly in his hand. He had made it to the kitchen table for this event, their last meal together, but he was looking a bit shaky, sitting upright in his wooden chair. 

“‘And so it goes,’” Bucky quoted, stirring the soup that was bubbling on the stove. Steve made a face at the Vonnegut reference, but Bucky went on. “We knew this was gonna happen,” he reminded Steve gently.

“I know,” Steve said, placing the form back into its envelope. “Just…didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“The sooner we can get you into that treatment program, the better.” Bucky punctuated his point by shaking the spoon at Steve.

Steve made a vague grunting noise, and Bucky sighed. “I’ll send you my first check, after a month,” he said. “That should be enough to get you your first round. After that, you might hafta wait a little between treatments, but I’ll do the best I can.”

“And the doctor said I should only do about eight or nine rounds, so you can come home, before the year’s over.” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” Bucky acknowledged cheerfully, serving up the soup into large bowls. “Now, eat up. I didn’t slave over the stove all day for nothin’.”

Steve ate the first spoonful, and sighed with content. “It’s a good thing you’re a decent cook, Barnes,” he remarked. “Only reason I keep ya around. S’not like your ugly mug is doin’ much for me,” he winked, and Bucky smiled wide, eyes crinkling at the corners.

_________

Dear Steve, Bucky wrote, trying to shake some feeling back into his fingers. The winters in France were bitter, and were just one of the many things he hated about the army.

How’s treatment going? I’ve sent about three checks by now, so I’m assuming you’ve got it under control. I’ve heard radiation was the pits, but I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I ain’t got it much better over here. It’s cold as balls, and the coffee tastes like the kind you make. Kidding, kidding!   
One of the upsides it that I’ve met a couple’a nice guys, like Mortia and Falsworth- they’re a laugh-a-minute, let me tell ya. They could never make me smile like you do, though. I can’t really tell ya where we are, or what exactly we’re doin’, but I’ll just letcha know that you’re not missin’ much.   
I’ve gotta go now, but I hope you’re doin’ alright over there across the pond. I miss ya, and I’d appreciate it if you wrote me BACK you punk! I’ve sent you ‘least a dozen letters by now – don’t leave me hangin’!  
Your, Bucky.

Bucky licked the envelope and tossed in into the box with the other to-be-mailed letters from his unit. He hurried across the yard, to where he could hear his commanding officer giving instructions.

__________

Bucky stood on the doorstep of their apartment, fidgeting nervously with his suitcase. His tour of duty was up, and he had jumped at the chance to return home. He had sent back plenty of money, hopefully enough that Steve was nearly finished with his treatments.

Steve.

In the nine months that Bucky was overseas, he hadn’t heard from Steve once. He’d written dozens of letters, sent photographs and money and small trinkets, but Steve hadn’t replied with a word.

And Bucky got it. Sure, he did. Steve had his own life back here in the U.S, and Bucky was just encroaching on that when he sent over things from the war. They were living totally differently, and it wasn’t fair for Bucky to expect that things would be the same when he got home.

But, by god, he had hoped they would be.

So here he was, nervous as a virgin on her first date, about to face Steve for the first time in almost a year. 

After an internal debate, he decided to forgo knocking, and simply let himself into the apartment. What he saw made him realize it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

The apartment was empty. Not “Steve-ran-to-the-store-and-should-be-back-soon” empty, but “does-anyone-even-live-here” empty. There was a layer of dust lining the shelves, the cupboards were bare, and Bucky’s clothes were hanging in the closet exactly how he’d left them.

Steve was his first thought. Where was he? The obvious answer would be the hospital, but according to the plan, he should be home by now. It was clear Steve hadn’t come home, though, not in a long while.

Bucky tossed his duffel bag onto the bed and headed out the door. He practically ran the two miles to the hospital – to jittery to sit in a cab – and was out of breath by the time he made it to the receptionist’s desk.

“I’m – looking for – Steve Rogers,” he puffed, resting his elbow on the counter.

She eyed him distastefully. “Relationship to the patient?” she asked, pulling out a file and flipping through it. 

“Boyf- um, close friend?” Bucky tried, catching himself.

“Mhm. Well, our records state that there’s no one here by that name,” she said, before replacing the file and going back to whatever she was doing.

“That’s impossible!” Bucky yelled, slamming his hands down. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but it is. Steven G. Rogers, please, check again,” he implored her. “He’s been here for about nine months, in the cancer treatment program?”

She looked at him begrudgingly again. “I’ll look,” she said finally, before producing yet another file.

Bucky waited anxiously, tapping his combat boots against the linoleum floor. After a couple minutes the receptionist cleared her throat. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr…” she looked at Bucky, whose eyes widened.

“Barnes. James Barnes. What happened to him?” he asked, voice quavering.

“Only six patients were accepted into the program. Mr. Rogers was one of them. It was headed by Dr. Abraham Erskine, and he took complete control of the project once the hospital provided the volunteer. Mr. Barnes,” she said, showing what seemed to be actual sympathy. “Mr. Rogers did not survive the treatment. I’m sorry.”

__________

Bucky took the long way home, walking up and down streets he’d know like the back of his hand for years. The wind whipped sharply at his face and cut right through is battle fatigues, but he didn’t care. Steve was gone – it was pointless for him to stay in Brooklyn, where every stupid little thing reminded him painfully of what could have been.

He passed a barber shop, one where he used to go to get a trim if he was going out on the town. In the window, a poster featured Uncle Sam pointing a menacing finger at the casual observer.

It prompted Bucky into thinking – why not go back? He was good at his position as platoon sniper. His CO had actually asked him to consider staying when his tour was up. And after all, it sure as hell beat staring at an empty apartment day in and day out.

Without taking too much time to mull it over, Bucky found his way to the nearest enlistment office. He signed himself right up, with a preference to be shipped out right away. A few days later he got his wish, and before he’d even been stateside two weeks, Bucky Barnes was back on a boat to reunite with his 107th.

__________

Bucky’s heart was beating fast in his throat, and his eyes raked the room in a panic, searching for a way out. His arms and legs were belted to the table, and he was wearing nothing but his undershirt and cargos. 

Everything hurt. He could see a clear tube running into his arm, and whenever one of the HYDRA scientists came in to flush it, it felt like fire was licking through his veins. His head was pounding, and he could feel the starting of a bruise on the side of his jaw and on the opposite temple. He was hungry, and thirsty to boot.

He couldn’t remember what happened. The last thing he knew, he was back at camp with the guys, cleaning his rifle and cracking jokes with Falsworth. Now, he was strapped to a table in what looked like a science lab. 

“Seargant…325725…James Buchannan Barnes…,” he mumbled, tongue thick in his mouth. “107th infantry…Brooklyn, New York.” Sometime after his capture, Bucky had taken to repeating his information out loud. He fell in and out of consciousness often, and each time he came to, he seemed to be able to remember less and less about himself.

“Seargant…325725…James…Barnes…” he said again, pushing against the heavy fog in his mind. How am I ever going to get out of here? he thought, pulling uselessly against the restraints. His thoughts began to wander, and he sank back against the chair.

The squeak of the door alerted him to the entrance of another HYDRA scientist. The man approached him, scratching notes in some sort of folder. After checking a few things, he retrieved a syringe from a nearby cabinet.

His stomach clenched, and Bucky ground his teeth. “Sergeant…325725…Barnes…” he whispered again, as he faded into oblivion.  
__________

“Bucky! Bucky, c’mon, please wake up!”

There was a voice, quite louder than the silence he had grown accustomed to, yelling at him. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, and groaned in pain when the voice took to shaking his shoulder.

“Bucky, it’s me, it’s Steve. Wake up, please,” the voice – Steve? – pleaded. 

Steve… Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was the other man’s bright blue ones, lit up at the sight of him, apparently.

“Stevie?” he murmured, blinking rapidly. He raised his hand to rub his eyes, when he realized he was no longer restrained. “What happened?”

“Your unit was captured by HYDRA,” Steve informed him. “You had set up camp too close to their borders, and they decided to take you out before you could get to them, I guess.”

Bucky struggled to stand, and would have fallen face-first if Steve had not caught him.

Whoa. Back up a minute. Steve caught him? How could his ninety-pound, cancerous best friend support his weight? On that note, why the hell was said best friend here in a German Nazi science base, and not in a metal casket six feet under?

None of this made sense.

Bucky wrenched himself violently out of Steve’s grasp, and steadied himself against the wall. He took a good look at his rescuer.

“Buck? Hey, Buck, what’s wrong?” his rescuer – Steve – asked worriedly. 

And it was undoubtedly Steve. Underneath the newly-gained hundred pounds and solid foot (give or take a few inches) grown, the slightly crooked nose and the glinting blue eyes were definitely his Stevie.

“Steve,” he breathed, before falling forward into Steve’s arms again. He hugged him tight, not caring about his bruises and other injuries for the moment. It felt so good to be near his best friend again, especially after weeks of thinking him dead.

“Oh, god, Bucky, I was so scared you weren’t gonna get up,” Steve exhaled against Bucky’s neck. “I was yellin’ for ya and shakin’ ya, but you just laid there, and I…”

Bucky leaned back just enough to see Steve’s face. “Steve, what happened to you?” He shook his head, running his hand lightly over Steve arm.

Steve laughed nervously. “I, uh, I got accepted into that cancer treatment program,” he joked, adjusting his helmet. “It wasn’t exactly what it seemed to be. I’ll tell ya all of it, Buck, I promise, but we’ve gotta get out of here,” he said, eyes flickering to the door. “They’ll be coming back.”

Bucky deliberated for half a second before following Steve out the door. What was his other choice – stay, and remain a lab rate? No, he’d followed Steve into battle since they were eleven and “battle” constituted a playground spat. He wasn’t going to quit now.  
\  
They snuck out of the science wing fairly easily, but getting out of the building was harder. Steve had to take down a couple of HYDRA agents with what looked to be a red, white, and blue metal shield. He was pretty handy with the thing, so Bucky decided not to comment.

For now, at least.

Once they got out of the building, they retreated into the forest. The pair had walked about a mile before Steve deemed it safe to stop. Sitting down and leaning up against a tree, Steve dug through his rucksack before coming up with a bottle of water, which he offered to Bucky, who drank half. He handed it back to Steve, but was waved off. 

“Nah, it’s alright. You can have it,” Steve said, but Bucky frowned. 

“Stevie, c’mon, you gotta stay hydrated to,” he insisted.

“Buck, I don’t need that much water anymore,” he explained, making a vague gesture to his new body.

Bucky took another swig of the water before setting it on the ground. “Yeah, about that, Rogers…” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You wanna spill the whole story now?”

Steve sighed, but agreed. “The treatment program was run through this guy named Dr. Erskine,” he started. “He was looking for six patients who…didn’t exactly have the best odds of recovering. Said he had a program that was almost guaranteed to work.”

“You risked your entire life on an almost?” Bucky very nearly shrieked, but then shook his head and leaned back against the tree. “Who am I kidding. ‘Course you did, you punk.”  
Steve simply shrugged, before going on with the story. “He interviewed us all at length, but he didn’t really ask any questions about our physical health. It was more, ‘what do you think about bullies’ and ‘should everyone have equal rights’ and stuff. I guess he liked my answers more than anyone elses’, because he told me I was going to be the test subject for his program.”

“So what’d he do? Start feeding you funny-colored pills until all of your tumors went away?” Bucky asked sarcastically.

“Not exactly,” Steve said. “He put me into this pod-like machine, where I got hooked up to all these wires and things. They closed it, flipped some switches, it hurt like a bitch for about five minutes, and then, bam.”

“‘Bam’ is right, Steve,” Bucky appraised, looking at Steve’s new form. “That’s quite the cancer treatment.”

“I’m cured, though,” Steve reminded him. “Of basically any ailment that I ever had. Asthma, heart murmur, partial deafness…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it – miracle serum and all that jazz. But why did the receptionist at the hospital tell me you were dead? Why did our apartment look like a goddamn ghost town?” he demanded angrily.

“Dr. Erskine said that the results of the experiment had to be kept completely confidential,” Steve explained. “He said there was a lot of people out there trying to steal his formula, and they would kill me to figure out how. So he kept me close at all times, and wouldn’t let me communicate with anyone.”

“So how’d you break free?” Bucky asked, feeling slightly guilty for his outburst.

“Eventually, the army got wind of Erskine’s success,” Steve said. “They stormed his facility and ‘appropriated’ me as the government’s new Super Soldier. Told me I was gonna win the war for them.”  
\  
“Just like ya always wanted,” Buck mused.

“Guess I never really thought that through,” Steve admitted. “They taught me all kinds of down-and-dirty fighting techniques, and gave me this special shield.” He held it out, reflecting it in the setting sunlight. “Made of vibranium, one of the rarest metals on earth. Impressive, huh?” 

Bucky hummed in agreement, running his fingers over the star in the center. “So, you became the best there ever was for Uncle Sam. Why’d you come find me?”

“Bucky, you’re all I thought about since the moment I started that program,” Steve said softly. “When they wouldn’t let me talk to you, I was devastated. I had no idea they’d tell you I was dead. I’m so sorry for that,” he whispered, dropping his head into his hands.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” Bucky reassured him, moving closer to where Steve was sitting. He draped his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “You don’t quite fit like you used to, huh?” he joked, and Steve laughed.

“You’re right, Captain America would never be the little spoon,” he winked. 

“That what they’re callin’ you nowadays?” Bucky asked. 

“That’s what they tell me,” Steve nodded. “And to answer your question, I came to find you after I overheard a couple of agents talking about how the 107th had been infiltrated and captured near one of HYDRA’s known science bases.”

“You came to rescue your damsel in distress,” Bucky grinned, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“If that’s how you wanna put it, yeah,” he replied. “I’m glad I did, too. No regrets.”

“Me neither,” Bucky agreed. “Thank you.”

Steve turned slightly, so that he was facing Bucky. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, before leaning closer. Giving Bucky plenty of time to move if he wanted to, Steve leaned all the way in, pressing his lips to Bucky’s.

Bucky returned the kiss heartily, resting his hands on the sides of Steve’s neck. They parted after a few moments, their breaths turning to small clouds in the cool evening air.

“I missed this,” Steve said, resting their foreheads together. “When I wasn’t running between army bases, I had a lot of time to think. Mostly about you.”

Bucky laughed quietly. “I wrote you letters all the time, Stevie,” he admitted. “You never wrote back – for obvious reasons, I see now – but I never gave up hope that you were out there somewhere.”

“Aww, you wrote me love letters?” Steve crooned, and Bucky flicked his ear.

“More or less,” he finally said. Steve smiled and moved closer to him.

“So is this what we’re gonna do? Forever?” he asked. “Cycle between army bases, get shot at, rescue each other?”

Bucky thought about this for a minute, pursing his lips. “That’s not really what I had in mind,” he said slowly, and Steve sighed with relief.

“Oh, thank god, me neither,” he laughed. “Once your tour’s over, I’m out. For good.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows conspiratorially. “Y’know, since I was captured and experimented on and tortured and all that…I think I could probably get out of my contract a little early. Let’s say, tomorrow?”

Steve had a grin to match, and he leaned in for another kiss. “Yeah, I think that would be good,” he agreed.

Bucky stood, holding out his hand to help Steve up. “Let’s get a move on, kid,” he jibed as Steve clicked his shield into place on his back. 

“I think we’ll get back to base before nightfall,” Steve guessed, looking at the sky. “Don’t wanna be caught out in the forest at night during a German winter, huh?”

Bucky laughed. “Hell no.” He sighed heavily. “I feel like it’s been winter the entire time I’ve been enlisted,” he complained, leaning up against Steve.

“It’s called being in the North, Buck,” Steve explained sarcastically, and was rewarded with a jab in the ribs. “That probably hurt you more than it hurt me, huh, jerk?” 

Bucky scowled and rubbed his elbow. “Whatever. Never thought I’d say this, but I think I miss Brooklyn summers,” he admitted.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “You miss the thousand-degree heat, the oppressive humidity, and the blinding sunlight?”

“It’s a lot better than this shit,” Bucky argued, kicking absently at the frozen ground. “’Sides, it wasn’t all bad.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, curious.

“Sometimes,” Bucky murmured, snaking his arm his arm around Steve’s waist. “When we were sittin’ in our dumpy little apartment,” he went on, resting his chin in the crook of Steve’s neck. “A nice summer breeze would blow through,” he said.

Steve’s cheeks colored, but he laced his fingers through Bucky’s and rested their hands against his stomach. “Is that so?” he murmured back, squeezing Bucky’s hand.

“As I live and breathe,” Bucky insisted. “Helluva thing to experience,” he continued. “It was all warm and soft and just…beautiful,” he described, punctuating each adjective with a kiss to Steve’s neck. 

“We lived in the city, Bucky,” Steve reminded him. “Couldn’t have happened too often.”

“You’re right,” Bucky acknowledged. “It was a fleeting thing. So I had to cherish it,” he smiled, turning to face Steve. 

“And in that way,” Steve mused. “You made the summer breeze last.”

Bucky nodded. “What else would get me through the winter?”

Steve just held his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. “Love you, Barnes,” he said quietly, suddenly wrapping Bucky up in a tight hug.

“Love you too…Cap,” Bucky replied, tacking on the new title. 

Steve swatted his arm lightly in protest. “Alright, Sarge, that’s enough. Time to go,” he said, looping his arm through Bucky’s. 

Bucky rested his hand on Steve’s elbow. “Lead the way,” he instructed, and the pair set off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I always appreciate comments/kudos!  
> Come find me on tumblr at starsandstripes-ofcorruption :)


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